Remebering
by Hobbitpal
Summary: I want to leave this place with a perfect picture of it in my head, so I can remeber you..
1. Chapter 1

He sat on his broom, high above the Quidditch pitch, just looking up at castle, at the turrets and spires that made up the most amazing sight he had ever seen. He couldn't believe that he would be soon be leaving it, that he would not be Caption of the Gryffindor team. He would miss the team, even the Weasly twins, who occasionally got on his nerves when they were in one of their pranking moods.

Gazing up at the castle, his eyes fell on Gryffindor tower and his mind thought of a young attractive 3rd year by the name of Hermione Granger. Granger may come across as hating Quidditch, but the things she did to help the team, help Harry showed that there was some love of the game inside of her, somewhere. She had charmed Harry's glasses in the match against Hufflepuff so that Harry had been able to see. Apparently she'd set fire to Snape's cloak in her first year, which had distracted Quirell and so allowed Harry to regain control of his broom. She came down to practise sessions, made sure Harry was ready for a match. He couldn't help but admire her.

He looked down at the stands, letting out a sigh. He wound not play on this pitch ever again. It was a sad occasion for him, even though they had won the Quidditch cup, there was only a few months before he left Hogwarts and never came back.

Looking down at the stands, he spotted someone sat there, a young brown haired girl and Oliver automatically recognized her as Hermione Granger, the only girl he had ever been really attracted to, even though she was what, 3 maybe 4 years younger than himself. There was a sense maturity about her, and she was very intelligent.

Grinning to himself, he swept down to her hovering over her. She looked up at him, startled by his sudden appearance above her.

"Oliver! You scared me." He grinned, jumping down from his broom so he could sit beside her.

Hermione stared at him, well, she tried not to, but Oliver Wood was one of the most handsome guys in Hogwarts, and also she had no idea why he would want to sit next to her.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to startle you," he sat next to her, staring out across the Quidditch pitch, out towards the lake, the mountains and the greater, wider world.

"What are you doing down here anyway?" Hermione shrugged. She had actually come down to sketch the Quidditch pitch. She had loved drawing ever since she had been a child, and according to her parents and muggle friends she was pretty good at it, but no one at Hogwarts knew about her drawing skills apart from Harry and Ron, she liked keeping the fact quiet. It would seem a little strange for the bookworm to be a dab hand at something that wasn't reading or studying.

"Oh, I just, uh, came down to admire the view. It's so beautiful and peaceful down here."

They looked out over the horizon. It was peaceful when there wasn't a match on. The pitch was in a perfect location and so got a lot of sun during the summer and little snow during winter. Unfortunately, it did get quite a bit of rain, but it didn't ruin the atmosphere when there was a game on, it just annoyed the players during practise sessions.

He glanced at her a she sat and watched the distant horizon.

"What are you doing out here?" she asked, still staring straight ahead. Whenever she looked at him, she felt the urge to kiss him rising up in her stomach.

Oliver chuckled slightly, looking about the deserted grounds. "Remembering," he admitted, looking up at the tall posts. "I want to leave with a perfect image of this place in my head. I've won so many matches on this pitch, lost matches, been hit by too many bludgers to count," he chuckled slightly, looking down at her, his smile spreading across his lips. "I want to remember it all so I can remember you."

She looked up at him, her eyes narrowing, not out of anger, but out of shock and surprise. Oliver Wood, Gryffindor Quidditch star want to remember her? She was nothing, a small insignificant third year who knew too much and hated Quidditch.

She tried to cover up her surprise by obverting her eyes and looking down at her lap and her closed sketchbook, tracing the patterns in the leather.

"I don't get what you mean," her voice was no more than a whisper, trying to sound brave. He just smiled, moving just a little bit closer to her, but not so close that he would feel intimidated.

"I mean, that I like you Hermione Granger, I really like you." She looked back up at him, at his slightly embarrassed and red face. His soft smile. She smiled back.

"I like you too Oliver, and I'm sure we won't forget each other." He grinned at her, moving a little bit closer, resting his arm on the row of seats behind them, just above her shoulders.

"I'm glad to hear it." They leant in towards each other, her up towards him, him down towards her, eyes closing, lips getting ready to touch. But there was the sound of footsteps behind them and they snapped apart, or at least Hermione looked around sharply, leaving Oliver to sigh slightly, hanging his head for a second before looking up to see who had disturbed them.

"Hey Ron." Ronald Weasly hurried towards them, obviously not realizing that he had just interrupted something important.

"There you are Hermione. We've been looking for you all over! Harry wants to known where you put that copy of you notebook. He wants to show Ginny that one you did of him and her." Hermione sighed, nodding and getting to her feet. This was what she got for being good at drawing. Dean got the same thing as well, though he didn't have Ron bearing down his neck every second to see what he was drawing, hence why Hermione thought it necessary to do most of her drawing outside.

"Bye Oliver," she called as she hurried off after Ron, leaving the young man to just wave and watch her go.


	2. Chapter 2

He fell onto his bed, mind racing with thoughts of the bookworm who had told him that she liked him. He'd sat for ages in the Quidditch stands after she'd left, just looking out over the horizon, thinking of her.

"Wood." He looked up to see Percy Weasly making his way to his bed in the corner of the room. Even though Percy was head boy, he slept in the same dorm room he had slept in for the past 6 years, with all his old roommates.

Oliver sat up, wondering if he should ask Percy for his opinion about Hermione. He knew that Percy got on well with her; after all, his youngest brother was one of her best friends. But she was a lot younger than him self, about 3 years, possibly 4.

"You alright Oliver?" He looked across at his friend, nodding absentmindedly. He was all right; he was fine.

"Hermione told me you talked to her." He just nodded again, looking out of the window by his bed, down at the Quidditch pitch on the horizon.

"Yeah. I've spoken to her a few times. She seems a nice girl." Percy smiled slightly, a knowing smile that Oliver had seen on his lips many times before. He narrowed his eyes at the head boy, questioning what he knew. Hermione couldn't have told him everything; she didn't seem the type of girl who would shout about their conversation.

"She asked me to give you this, by a way of a memory." He handed Oliver a sort of package. Carefully taking it, Oliver stared at it, then up at Percy who was starting to get ready for bed.

"What exactly did she say to you?" Percy looked around at him, slightly startled.

"Not much, just that you'd spoken to her and she had something that might help you remember." Oliver sat on his bed, staring down at the parcel in his hands. It felt hard, with the edges raised up, like a frame around something.

Carefully he pulled off the brown paper wrapping from the gift and found himself looking into a beautiful picture. It was of Hogwarts, with the forest and the lake and the Quidditch pitch, and around the edge of the picture was various drawings of people's face, the Quidditch team, some teachers and people from Gryffindor. It was beautifully drawn and detailed, and at the bottom it was signed in a delicate hand, her hand.

He smiled, running a hand over the glass of the picture, a smile spreading across his lips. She was talented, so talented and beautiful and perfect.

"It's beautiful you know." Hermione looked up from her book to smile at him as he sat next to her, in their normal place in the stands.

"I thought you might like it," she said, grinning up at him. "We'll stay in touch Oliver, I'm sure of it, because now you have something to always remember me by." He just chuckled, leaning towards her, checking that there was no one about that could or would interrupt them. He kissed her, lightly on the lips, placing a hand on her shoulder, drawing her closer as she wrapped an arm around his neck. When they broke apart they were both grinning, cheeks flushed and tinted pink.

"You have no idea how long I have wanted to do that." She chuckled slightly as he grinned at her, the grin reaching his eyes.

"I can guess," she replied before their lips met again.

They did remember each other, as their wedding some years later proved testimony too, and the gift she had given him hung in the hallway of their house, as a reminder of days that had gone by and of days to come.


End file.
